Bloodstream (37 page)

“You looking for me?”

“Yeah, I—I drove over to your house, but you weren’t home.”

“My pager’s been on.”

“I know. But I—well, I didn’t want to break the news over the phone.”

“What news?”

Floyd looked down at his own boots, crusted with snow. “It’s bad news, Lincoln. I’m real sorry. It’s about Doreen.”

Lincoln said nothing. And strangely enough, he felt nothing, as if the cold air he was breathing in had somehow numbed his heart, and his brain as well. Floyd’s voice seemed to be speaking to him from across a great distance, the words fading in and out of hearing.

“...found her body over on Slocum Road. Don’t know how she got all the way out there. We think it must’ve happened early last night, ‘round the same time as that trouble over at the school. But it’s up to the ME to determine.”

Lincoln could barely force words from his throat. “How... how did it happen?”

Floyd hesitated, his gaze rising, then dropping again to his boots. “It looks like a hit-and-run to me. The state police are heading out to the scene.”

By Floyd’s prolonged silence, Lincoln understood there was still more that hadn’t been said. When Floyd looked up at last, his next words came out with painful reluctance. “Last night, around nine, the dispatcher got a call about a drunken driver, weaving all over Slocum Road. Same vicinity where we found Doreen. That call came in while we were all over at the high school, so no one managed to follow up on it—”

“Did the witness get a license number?”

Floyd nodded. And added miserably: “The vehicle was registered to Dr. Elliot.”

Lincoln felt the blood drain from his face.
Claire’s car?

“According to the registration, it’s a brown Chevy pickup.”

“But she wasn’t driving the pickup! I saw her last night at the school. She was driving that old Subaru sedan.”

“All I’m saying, Lincoln, is that the witness gave Dr. Effiot’s license number. So maybe—maybe I should take a look at the pickup?”

Lincoln stepped outside in his shirtsleeves, but scarcely felt the cold as he waded across to the barn. He reached elbow deep into the snow, found the handle, and raised the door.

Inside, both of Claire’s vehicles were parked side by side, the pickup on the right. The first thing Lincoln noticed was the snowmelt puddled beneath both vehicles. Both of them had been driven sometime in the last day or two, recently enough so that the puddles had not yet evaporated.

His numbness was quickly giving way to a nauseating sense of dread. He circled around to the front of the pickup truck. At his first glimpse of the blood smeared across the fender, the world seemed to drop away from under his feet, to collapse beneath him.

Without a word, he turned and walked out of the barn.

Halting in calf-deep snow, he looked up at the house where Claire and her son now slept. He could think of no way to avoid the ordeal to come, no way to spare her from the pain he himself would now have to inflict. He had no choice in the matter. Surely she would understand. Perhaps some day she would even forgive him.

But today—today she would hate him.

“You know you’re gonna have to step away from this,” said Floyd, softly. “Hell, you’re gonna have to stay
miles
away. Doreen was your wife. And you just spent the night with His voice faded. “It’s a state police case, Lincoln. They’ll be wanting to talk to you. To both of you.”

Lincoln took a deep breath and welcomed the punishing sharpness of cold air in his lungs. Welcomed the physical pain. “Then you get them on the radio,” he said. And he started, reluctantly, toward the house. “I have to talk to Noah.”

She didn’t understand how this could have happened. She had awakened to a parallel universe where people she knew, people she

loved, were behaving in ways she did not recognize. There was Noah slouched in the kitchen chair, his whole body so electric with rage the air around him seemed to hum. There was Lincoln, grim and distant as he asked another question, and another. Neither one of them looked at her; clearly they both preferred she be out of the room, but they hadn’t asked her to leave. She would not leave in any event; she saw the direction Lincoln’s questions were taking, and she understood the dangerous nature of this drama now being played out in her kitchen.

“I need you to be honest with me, son,” said Lincoln. “I’m not trying to play tricks on you. I’m not trying to trap you. I just have to know where you drove the truck last night, and what happened.”

“Who says I drove it anywhere?”

“The pickup has obviously been out of the barn. There’s snowmelt under it.”

“My mom—”

“Your mom was driving the Subaru last night, Noah. She confirms it.” Noah’s gaze shot to Claire, and she saw the accusation in his eyes.
You’re on his side.

“Who gives a shit if I did take it out for a drive?” said Noah. “I brought it back in one piece, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“So I drove without a license. Send me to the electric chair.”

“Where did you drive the truck, Noah?”

“Around.”

“Where?”

“Just around, okay?”

“Why are you asking him these questions?” said Claire. “What are trying to get him to say?”

Lincoln didn’t answer; his attention remained fixed on her son. That’s how far he’s pulled away from me, she thought. That’s how little I know this man. Welcome to the morning after, the hard light of regret.

“This isn’t about a simple joyride, is it?” said Claire.

At last Lincoln looked at her. “There was a hit-and-run accident last night. Your pickup truck may have been involved.”

“How do you know that?”

“A witness saw your truck driving erratically and called it in. It was on the same road where the body was found”

She sat back in her chair, as though someone had shoved her.
A body. Someone has been killed.

“Where did you take the pickup last night, Noah?” Lincoln asked.

Suddenly Noah looked terrified. “The lake,” he said, almost too softly to be heard.

“Where else?”

“Just the lake. Toddy Point Road. I parked for a while, on the boat ramp. Then it started to snow too hard, and we didn’t want to get stuck there, so I—I drove home. I was already here when mom got back.”

“We? You said
we
didn’t want to get stuck.” Noah looked confused. “I meant
me.”

“Who was in the truck with you?”

“Nobody.”

“The truth, Noah. Who was with you when you hit Doreen?”

“Who?”

“Doreen Kelly.”

Lincoln’s wife?
Claire stood up so abruptly her chair toppled backwards. “Stop it. Stop the questions!”

“They found her body this morning, Noah,” Lincoln continued, as though Claire hadn’t spoken at all, and his quiet monotone barely disguised his pain. “She was lying at the side of Slocum Road. Not far from where the witness saw you driving last night. You could have stopped to help her. You could have called someone, anyone. She didn’t deserve to die that way, Noah. Not all alone, in the cold.” Claire heard more than pain in his voice; she heard guilt. His marriage may have been over, but Lincoln had never lost his sense of responsibility toward Doreen. With her death, he had taken on the new burden of self-blame.

“Noah wouldn’t leave her there,” said Claire. “I know he wouldn’t?’

“You may think you know him.”

“Lincoln, I understand you’re hurting. I understand you’re in shock. But now you’re lashing out, trying to assign blame to the nearest target.”

Lincoln looked at Noah. “You’ve been in trouble before, haven’t you? You’ve stolen cars.”

Noah’s hands clenched into fists. “You know?”

“Yes, I do. Officer Spear called your juvenile intake officer down in Baltimore

“So why are you bothering with the questions? You’ve already decided I’m guilty!”

“I want to hear your side.”

“I told you my side!”

“You say you drove around the lake. You also drove out to Slocum Road, didn’t you? Did you realize you’d hit her? Did you ever think to get out and just take a goddamn
look?”

“Stop it,” said Claire.

“I have to know!”

“I won’t have a cop interrogating my son without legal counsel!”

“I’m not asking this as a cop.”

“You
are
a cop! And there’ll be no more questions!” She stood behind her son, her hands on Noah’s shoulders as she gazed straight at Lincoln. “He has nothing more to say to you.”

“He’ll have to come up with answers eventually, Claire. The state police will be asking him all these questions and more.”

“Noah won’t be talking to them either. Not without an attorney”

“Claire,” he said, anguish spilling into his voice. “She was my wife. I need to know.”

“Are you placing my son under arrest?”

“It’s not my decision—”

Claire’s hands tightened on Noah’s shoulders. “If you’re not arresting him, and you have no search warrant, then I want you to leave my house. I want you and Officer Spear off my property.”

“There’s physical evidence. If Noah would just come clean with me and admit—”

“What physical evidence?”

“Blood. On your pickup truck.”

She stared at him, the shock like a vise crushing her chest.

“Your truck was driven recently. The blood on the front fender—”

“You had no right,” she said. “You had no search warrant.”

“I didn’t need one.”

The meaning of his words was instantly clear to her.
He was my guest last night. I gave him implied permission to be here. To search my property I allowed him in my house as a lover, and he’s turned against me.

She said, “I want you to leave.”

“Claire, please—”

“Get out of my house!”

Slowly Lincoln rose to his feet. There was no anger in his expression, just profound sadness. “They’ll be coming to talk to him,” he said.

“I suggest you call an attorney soon. I don’t know how likely it is you’ll find one on a Sunday morning He looked down at the table, then back up at her. “I’m sorry. If there was any way I could change things—any way I could make this turn out right...”

“I have my son to think of,” she said. “Right now he has to be my only concern.”

Lincoln turned to Noah. “If you did anything wrong, it will come out. And you’ll be punished. I won’t have any sympathy for you, not one bit. I’m just sorry it’s going to break your mother’s heart?’

The men were not leaving. Claire stood in the front parlor, gazing out the window at Lincoln and Floyd, who lingered at the end of her driveway. They are not going to leave us unguarded, she thought. They’re afraid Noah will slip away

Lincoln turned to look at the house, and Claire stepped back from the window, not wanting him to see her, not allowing even the briefest eye contact. There could be nothing between them now. Doreen’s death had changed everything.

She went back into the kitchen where Noah sat, and sank into the chair across from him. “Tell me what happened, Noah. Tell me everything.”

“I did tell you.”

“You took the pickup outlast night. Why?”

He shrugged.

“Have you done this before?”

‘‘No

“The truth, Noah.”

His gaze shot up, dark with anger. “You’re calling me a liar. Just like he did.”

“I’m trying to get a straight answer out of you.”

“I gave you a straight answer, and you don’t believe me! Okay, fine, believe what you want. I take the truck out every night for a joyride. Rack up thousands of miles—haven’t you noticed? But why would you? You’re never home for me anyway!”

Claire was stunned by the rage in his voice. Is that really how he sees me? she wondered. The mother who’s never here, never home for her only child? She swallowed the hurt, forcing herself to focus on the events of last night.

“All right, I’ll accept your word that it was the only time you took out the truck. You still haven’t told me why you did.”

Noah’s gaze dropped to the table, a clear indication he was being evasive. “I felt like it.”

“You drove to the boat ramp and just parked there?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see Doreen Kelly?”

“I don’t even know what she looks like!”

“Did you see anyone?”

A pause. “I didn’t see any lady named Doreen. Stupid name.”

“She was not just a name. She was a person, and she’s dead. If you know anything at all—”

“I don’t.”

“Lincoln seems to think you do.”

Again that angry gaze slanted up at her. “And you believe
him,
don’t you?” He shoved the chair back and stood up.

“Sit down.”

“You don’t want me around. You want Mr. Cop instead.” She saw the flash of tears in his eyes as he turned for the kitchen door.

“Where are you going?”

“What difference does it make?” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

She stepped outside and saw that he was already stumbling away into the woods. He had no jacket, only those tattered jeans and a long-

sleeved cotton shirt, but he didn’t seem to care about the cold. His anger and hurt were driving him recklessly forward through the snow.

“Noah!” she yelled.

Now he had reached the lake’s edge and he veered left, following its curve, crossing into the woods of the neighboring property.

“Noah!” She plunged into the snow after him. He was already far ahead and with each angry stride he increased the distance between them.
He’s not coming back.
She began to run, shouting his name.

Now two figures, off to her left, caught her eye. Lincoln and Floyd had heard her voice and were in pursuit as well. They had nearly caught up when Noah glanced back and saw them.

He began to run, toward the lake.

Claire cried out: “Don’t hurt him!”

Floyd grabbed him just as they both reached the edge of the ice and he hauled him backwards. They both tumbled into deep snow. Noah scrambled back to his feet first and he flew at Floyd, fists swinging, his rage out of control. He thrashed, howling, as Lincoln grabbed him from behind and wrestled him to the ground.

Floyd scrambled back to his feet and drew his weapon.